Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83776 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83776 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
“Thank you,” I manage to say, and I want to tell him even more—I’ll do better from now on, I won’t disparage your house again, I don’t deserve this but maybe one day I will—but his lips press against my cheek, and then he’s barking at his friends to get back to work, and I’m forgotten.
I remain by the stairs, stunned, as the three of them pick up where they left off. Davide’s a gorgeous god of a human, a perfect specimen, carved from granite and glowing with warmth. I’m still wary of him, and I still don’t want to be here, but at least I know my husband is capable of grand gestures.
Chapter 14
Davide
I finish the upstairs room over the next week, working mostly during the mornings. Bruno and Emilio help when they can, but I make this my project. I like hanging drywall and running wire, it’s strangely cathartic, and even though I have to stop a few times when I start to feel the bars of the cage clanging shut around me, the effort’s worth it.
Things changed after that day. Stefania hasn’t exactly thawed to me—she has her defenses very much in place, and it’s obvious she’s still feeling lost out here—but there’s much less animosity. Actually, she’s almost nice, which is hard to fathom. I figured with her, it was claws all over, and it’s nice to know she can have a soft side too.
I wish I could spend more time with her, but I’m busy hunting down and eliminating the men that sabotaged our ships. It’s an ugly and dangerous job, but it’s my role in the Famiglia, and I’ve relished it for a long time. Though I find myself thinking more about Stefania when I’m out on my hunts, wondering what she’s doing and what she’s thinking. While it’s a distraction I can’t afford when my life is on the line, it’s a distraction that I can’t get out of my head.
About a week after Stefania came to live with me, I find her up in one of her rooms building bookshelves. She painted the walls a pale gray color, and now she’s constructing what looks like a library: cozy chair near the window, lots of comfortable blankets and pillows, and stacks of books.
“This looks good already,” I say from the doorway and she looks up at me, her cheeks flushed and smiling. I don’t think I’ve seen her so happy, and it makes my heart beat faster. I like that she’s enjoying herself, and I’m aware that being in this moderately small room with her doesn’t bother me at all the way I thought it might.
I can’t remember the last time I could stand being in an enclosed space like this with a person I barely know. I can handle my close friends, my parents, my siblings, but I’ve been married to Stefania for barely two weeks. She should still be a stranger.
Instead, I want to get closer to her.
“I’m still deciding what I want it to look like when I’m done,” she says and sits back to stretch her legs.
“Do you want help finishing up?”
She shrugs and waves a hand at the half-constructed shelves. “I mean, I don’t want to take up your time. You can if you want.”
I step into the room and crash down beside her, aware of the smell of her shampoo and the curves of her body. She’s in jeans and a simple black t-shirt, but I can’t stop looking at her and thinking about that first night. I’ve been craving her presence for a while now, and being this close makes me yearn to dig my fist into her hair and tighten my grip, just to hear her gasp.
We don’t talk about anything important as we work. I keep snatching glances at her as the shelves come together, and she catches me staring more than once. But I don’t care; I love the little sheen of sweat on her forehead, the pink in her cheeks, the flash of skin at her midriff every time she reaches her arms up over her head. Her arms are long and her legs are curvy, and every inch of this woman makes me feel like I need to bury my mouth between her legs again.
“That went a lot faster than I thought,” she says once we’re finished. She stands back, wiping her hands together, and admires our work.
“That’s because I am an extremely talented builder.” I drape an arm around her shoulders and my heart does an extra beat, but I don’t feel like I’m going to lose myself. If anything, a bead of sweat rolls down my back, and a kernel of desire simmers deep in my guts.
“Please, I did all the work before you got here.”
“We both know I’m very good with my hands.”